Tempest: Fine Dining
by kaiserklee
Summary: Tempest!Verse. Memories of the past aren't always bitter. ("As children, Saul taught Elsa the correct way to use the dizzying number of utensils at a royal table...")


**a/n: **This is a side-story to my main fic, Tempest, so it might not make much sense if you haven't read that. For readers: It had to happen eventually, haha, sorry! Team Salsa :D I don't say this enough, but thank you so much for all the follows/favs/reviews!

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**Fine Dining**

"Why are there so many?" Elsa asked.

She stared helplessly at the array of utensils splayed out on the table, all of them pale gold and no doubt made of the finest materials that Elsa even now was amazed to see, let alone handle. But there was just so _many. _It made her dizzy just looking at all of them reflecting the light.

"It does seem excessive," Saul agreed, but he did not shrug. Elsa remembered that from the etiquette lessons. Never shrug. Blink infrequently. Always walk with a straight back, shoulders lowered and your head held high. Walk on the ball of your feet, right behind the toes. Move at the right speed, not too fast and not too slow. Do not swing your arms.

Remembering all that was enough to make her head spin, let alone the sudden inclusion of fine dining.

"Have a seat," Saul said, arm sweeping into a grand gesture the grace of which Elsa could only envy. When she tried the same, she only looked like a barbarian. At least she had mastered _sitting _after a few days of rigorous practice. On the other end of the table, Saul seated himself as well.

"All right," Elsa breathed. "I'm ready."

"Relax," Saul laughed. "It's just me."

Elsa smiled weakly. It was true, Saul _was _her closest friend here, but in a way that only made things worse. She thought she might die of embarrassment if she messed up. Especially after Cyrus pointed out her atrocious table manners over dinner a few days ago, prompting Markus to set up this whole training – and despite his reprimand, quite obviously proving his son correct by doing so.

"You're gonna laugh," Elsa mumbled. She only remembered after the fact that she ought not to mumble, and colloquialisms like _gonna _were as taboo as swears if not more so.

"I likely will, but I hope you know I'll be laughing with you and not at you," Saul said, very seriously as was his wont. It was hard not to believe him. "I understand that this is new for you, but think of it as a bit of fun experimentation. At the very least, there will be food."

On cue, a platoon of servants brought up dishes. Elsa hastily followed Saul's example and laid out her napkin over her knees.

"Remember to keep your feet on the floor. Don't cross your legs, and don't lean back on your chair. Elbows at your side," Saul said.

"Err…" Elsa shut her mouth and cleared her throat. Not appropriate to make those unconfident noises. "Is this correct?"

Saul smiled but hid it behind his hand, a habit Elsa was already learning to mimic. "You don't have to be so stiff. Be natural."

She had no idea how to be natural while sitting like an automaton, but Elsa did the best she could until Saul nodded his satisfaction. "Will we be having wine?" Elsa asked, nodding to the glasses at the table.

"Ahh, no. Those are there to let you know what they are, but I think we should break you in slowly." Saul lifted the top left glass, then the one below, then the top right, then the bottom right. "Red wine, white wine, champagne, and water."

"Okay. Stick with water for now."

Saul motioned for the servants, and they put down a covered dish on each of their plates before lifting the dome. Elsa eyed the salad carefully – just a salad, nothing too fancy yet, which was a bit of a relief – as though heading off to battle.

"Now then, onto utensils. A general rule of thumb is to work your way from the outside in. Always take small portions at a time," Saul explained.

Elsa nodded and picked up the fork at the far left, only for Saul to clear his throat. She dropped it like something poisonous and looked up guiltily.

"Wait for the host first," Saul said gently. After picking up his own fork and taking a small bite of salad, he gestured to Elsa. "Now you've offered me your respect, and I've reciprocated by proving that there is no poison."

"Wait, poison?"

"It's a thing." Saul placed his fork down on the plate, vertically over the center with the tines pointed up. "Follow my example, please."

Elsa hastened to do the same, and to her shock the servants took the salad away. "I didn't have any!"

"Punishment for lack of etiquette," Saul said, and this time he did not hide his smile. Elsa could tell he was enjoying this, and she bristled immediately at her so-called friend. Calm down, she told herself, and after a deep breath, she put on a likewise saccharine smile. Saul smiled so widely it could almost be a grin. "Now you know to put cutlery down on the plate and never back on the table. Angle it if you're not finished. Vertical if you are."

"Understood," Elsa bit out.

"Soup is next." Bowls were laid out in front of them, but Elsa thought they resembled tall plates with indentations more than anything. There wasn't even much soup in them, though the creamy broth looked incredibly appetizing, steaming hot and loaded with fresh seafood. "For soup, you'll use the bowl-shaped spoon. Observe."

Elsa did just that, allowing Saul to go first this time and taking note of what he was doing. After he was done with the first spoonful, she daintily picked up her spoon and dug in. Keep the bowl on the table. Start at the center and scoop away from yourself. When Saul had no complaints, Elsa let herself smile at the success, and she leaned over to get at it–

"Ahem." Elsa nearly dropped her spoon but Saul continued, "Bring the spoon to your mouth and not the other way around. Sorry, Elsa."

And just like that, her soup was taken away too. Elsa frowned, trying her hardest not to growl when she saw even the servants looking amused. "Will I be eating at all tonight?"

"That's up to you," Saul said. "Excuse me for a minute, I do enjoy this soup. I'll finish it before we continue."

So Elsa watched as Saul very deliberately took his time lingering over the dish, occasionally sending her glances that were altogether smug in her opinion. Not that he would look smug to anyone else, but she could tell. It took everything she had not to cross her arms, but she sat there and waited with all the pensive grace expected of her. Finally, Saul allowed his bowl to be taken away and they were presented with new delicacies.

Dessert!

"Not dessert, pudding," Saul corrected, but Elsa was too happy to care. "There is a difference. Use both a spoon and a fork for this. Sometimes utensils for pudding are above the plate, but otherwise, continue to move inwards from the side."

Elsa picked up a spoon in her left hand and a fork in her right once Saul did the same, and she watched as he scooped some with the fork into the spoon. Easy enough. She mimicked the procedure and this time remembered not to lean forward. It was a nerve-wracking experience trying to balance the gelatinous pudding in her spoon, but eventually she managed to bring it to her mouth. Sweet, sugary goodness flooded her tastebuds; Elsa barely managed to hold in a squeal. She might have scooped a little too much though. Some of it smeared on her lips, so Elsa lifted her napkin and did a broad sweep–

And the servants took her pudding away.

"What did I do wrong this time?" Elsa exclaimed.

"I already excused the big bite, but napkins are used for dabbing, not wiping," Saul said, and Elsa very nearly threw her napkin at his face. "Next course is the main course."

Steak and potatoes. Elsa felt her mouth water at the sight, steam curling up invitingly the moment the dome was lifted and revealing sizzling meat. After a whole night of being tantalized with food, this was almost sinfully tempting.

"Fork in your left, knife in your right," Saul said. "Fork to secure the meat, and knife to cut. Start from the edge and continue to round the corners. And remember, small, bite-sized pieces."

Elsa dove in, fully intending to hack into the meat with gusto before remembering her manners. Refusing to have this taken from her, she cut into the meat slowly, ignoring Saul's amused glance in her direction. He was just trying to break her concentration. Success! A small, bite-sized piece. She preferred to use her right hand to eat, though. Would it be too risky? But if she used her left, she might smack herself in the face with the steak…

Elsa grit her teeth and put down the knife, preparing to switch hands, when…

"Elsa," Saul sighed. She froze. "Don't put the knife on the table. And you're supposed to hold onto it, at any rate, so forgive me again–"

"I thought you said this was going to be fun!" Elsa stood up, feeling tears prickle in her eyes. Angry tears, she told herself, but if she were honest she felt betrayed. All this time, Saul had done nothing but make fun of her. She wiped the tears away on her sleeve, but it was too late to stop them from spilling down her cheeks.

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – Elsa!"

Elsa ran.

She hardly knew where she was going, but she just wanted to be away. She missed her normal, common life, or at least the one she had before her powers had manifested themselves. She missed not having to follow stuffy rules and be someone she was not. She missed – her parents – before – everything had gone so wrong, so horribly wrong – _but had they really when did they exactly how –_

"Elsa! Wait!"

Elsa looked back and saw through tear-filled eyes that Saul was sprinting towards her, all semblance of his composure gone. He looked quite panicked. By the time he caught up, he was huffing and wheezing and red-faced, and only then did Elsa notice she had traveled quite a bit farther than she imagined. Ice from beneath her feet had launched her along.

"I-I'm really sorry," Saul gasped.

"Well, you should be," Elsa sniffled.

"I am! I was just playing, I didn't mean to – I mean, I thought it would be a bit of a prank, I would never really take away your food, and, and–"

Elsa couldn't help giggling at the sight of Saul being so flustered. He was always so prim and proper and everything she thought she would never be. Seeing him act like her was…refreshing.

"I'm really sorry," Saul said again, and Elsa knew he meant it because he wasn't saying _I apologize _or any of those variants. He wasn't apologizing because that was the correct thing to do. He was _sorry_.

"Fine, I forgive you," Elsa said, reluctant smile making it difficult to keep her tone rightfully irritated. "As long as we go and eat now."

Saul smiled weakly. "When you left, you sort of…froze everything. I don't think any of that is edible anymore."

"…Oh."

"But I saved you this!" Saul reached into his pocket and withdrew a packet wrapped by a length of twine, looking rather uncertain before handing it to her and looking around guiltily.

Elsa unraveled it, half-bemused and the other half just plain hungry. Before she even finished, a familiar aroma rose from the packaging. She froze and gave Saul an incredulous glance.

"Open it!" Saul said.

She wasted no more time and all but ripped it apart, slumping onto the floor with dozens of chocolates. Each one was different, some of them truffles, some of them pralines, others fruit dipped in chocolate…

"I thought we weren't allowed!" Elsa whispered.

"Just…don't tell anyone." Saul shrugged, actually _shrugged, _and Elsa laughed. She hid it behind her hand and it turned into a rather undignified snort, but Saul was too panicked about his horrendous rule-breaking to even comment. "I just hope you like it."

"I do!" Elsa grabbed one and shoved it in her mouth, crunching through the layer of chocolate and biting into a deliciously fresh strawberry. "This is really good," Elsa mumbled around a mouthful. She swallowed. "Do you want some?"

"I-I really shouldn't," Saul said. Markus never let them have sweets, but Elsa waved one around and Saul eventually gave in to curiosity. Once he bit into the truffle, his lips turned into an _o_ of delight.

"Wait!" Elsa said. "Etiquette!"

"Finger-food."


End file.
